Male Sub Ch 05

Author's Foreword—

This is my tenth posting to Literotica and my fifth entry in my Male Submissive series. Swing by my profile for an archive of my earlier posting. I also urge you to look for "Shoo Shoo Baby" in the Sci Fi & Fantasy genre; it is my first entry to score both a "Hot" notation

and

an "Editor's Pick" notation!

Enjoy!

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Male Sub Ch 05 — The Examination

Mistress Brandy watched the news without really seeing the images on the screen. Instead, she was pondering what to do with—and for—her slave Allen. He had been exceptionally good during the past week; at the moment he was mopping her kitchen. He had cooked a surprisingly terrific meal earlier before loading the dishwasher and tidying up the kitchen. Brandy knew this was all part of their

Cosa Nostra

—an Italian phrase used by the Mafia, which means "this thing of ours"—but she felt his behavior rated a reward as being above and beyond the call of duty.

The problem was that today was Wednesday. She had specified that he could only climax once a week, and that was on Friday. She rode his thick and magnificent cock to her pleasure and his, but he couldn't allow himself to climax without being punished. Brandy knew men lived to spew their seed into a willing pussy, and her willing slave really did deserve a reward. Hence the dilemma—how to balance his reward against her own rules.

Allen finished in the kitchen ten minutes later. He returned to the side of her easy chair and knelt on the cushion placed there for his use. "The kitchen is ready for your inspection, Mistress." She didn't usually inspect his work, but he was hoping she would anyway so he could admire the motion of her mighty fine behind under her white cotton bikini panties.

"I believe I will," she said, standing up. Allen watched the sway of her small and tight ass as she went into the kitchen. She looked around. As usual, he had done a marvelous job. She idly wondered if he had been raised in a secluded convent populated with clean-freak nuns. That would explain his need to submit to a woman

and

his detail-oriented cleaning practices. Submissive men as hunky, studious, dedicated and fulfilling as him were very rare indeed, and Brandy considered herself fortunate to have him.

She returned to her chair, noting but ignoring the way he watched her panty-clad pussy mound move with her stride. Brandy liked to be admired by him but mostly ignored it as part of their arrangement—let him get his pleasure where he could. "You did very well, my pet," she said fondly, stroking his hair as if petting a pooch. "I believe we'll go downstairs after awhile."

"Yes, Mistress." Allen knew he might—or might not—get a reward for his efforts, something that pleased her first and him second. Eating her pussy was an immense thrill for him; it was soft, warm and delicate, and he enjoyed being allowed access to it. The privilege was for her enjoyment but he got plenty of secondhand pleasure out of tongue-ticking her tenderness.

Time went by as they watched the news. At eight,

The O'Reilly Factor

came on and Allen tried to interpret his Mistress' intentions with glances at her expressions. If the pre-show tease held any topics of interest to her, it would be another hour before they went downstairs. If not, previous experience dictated they would go right away. He tried to be patient as the anchor discussed his famous Talking Points Memo with his audience.

Brandy had some interest in the topics but not enough to stay and watch. So she waited until the Talking Points Memo was complete before aiming the remote and shutting off the TV. Allen tried to suppress his anticipation as she slid forward to perch on the front of the chair's cushion. "Carry me downstairs, slave."

"Yes, Mistress." He stood and easily plucked Brandy off the chair and cradled her in his massive arms. He carried her through the spiffy kitchen and went downstairs.

He stopped at the bottom and waited for directions. "Take me to the gyno table and put me down." Allen crossed to the antique gynecologist's table they had found at a flea market and put her back on her feet. "It's that time of year again, my slave," she said with a gesture at the table. "You need your examination. Sit down and put your feet in the stirrups."

"Yes, Mistress." Once in place, Brandy pulled his unresisting arms up over his head and fastened his wrists into leather cuffs attached to the opposite of the upright backrest. Then a black leather blindfold was settled in place. A leather belt was buckled over his pelvis like a seat belt and medical-quality beige leather restraints used to secure his ankles to the gyno table's support fixtures. His legs were widely spread and his already half-hard cock and testicles were exposed.

Brandy pulled up a scooter stool and settled her dainty butt upon it. She then drew herself close and prepared to examine her slave's genitals for their general healthiness and defects, real or imagined. Brandy handled his rapidly swelling member with her small but skilled hands, taking great care to look for cleanliness, blemishes of the skin and a pleasing scent. Allen really loved getting such an examination.

Of course Brandy knew this—a good Mistress makes it her business to understand the needs and wants of a submissive under her tutelage. It also gave her a thrill to handle his hard shaft and fondle his balls in the guise of her examination. She remembered the surprise she had felt as a teenager when a boyfriend had allowed her to handle his marble bag for the first time. The erect penis was no surprise courtesy of "the talk" her mother had with her four months before the onset of her first menstruation. The scrotum and the delicate egg-shapes hanging therein, however, were a huge surprise just before becoming a source of fascination for her. Given the chance, Brandy would spend a great deal of time with the testicles before moving on.

Of course, being Allen's Mistress gave her all the time she wanted.

Allen felt his sexual excitement rising. Delicate little fingers turned his rampant manhood this way and that, cradled his sac and carefully probed the testes within, making sure his pubic hair was trimmed to specifications and just exploring in general. He felt his breathing increase unsteadily as his heart pounded harder to supply blood to the penis so it would stiffen even further.

Finally, Brandy was satisfied with her examination—but she was by no means done. She got up and went to a decorative planter near the big-screen TV. From it she pulled a long peacock feather and returned to her perch. Without a word of warning, she began to use that feather to draw softly wafting random patterns on his rock solid erection, concentrating most of her efforts on the head and glans.

Within mere minutes, Allen was breathing hoarsely, trembling with pent-up hormones and twitching within his restraints. He had no idea where the too-soft feather would go next as Mistress brushed it across the penile head, then the shaft, venture down to points of interest on his sac before heading back up his raging, throbbing hardness. She took very great care to use just the outer three millimeters of the feather to stroke the underside of his boner parallel to the urethra.

Smiling to herself, Brandy glanced up at him as his muscles flinched and jerked in involuntary fits and starts. His sensuous lips were parted, his jaw quivered at times, his diaphram clenched and heaved at random intervals, and his nipples stood out stiffly. His penis and testicles were a darker shade than normal from the engorgement of blood his excitement caused. Taking care to be quiet, she slipped her hand into her panties to tend to her pussy. Meanwhile, the other hand stayed occupied with the task of delivering maddeningly light, slow and gentle brush strokes on his mansteel with the feather.

Brandy bided her time. She knew Allen would eventually become excited enough to start pleading for permission to climax. That permission would be denied of course; it was her unwritten rule that permission to climax would be denied if he asked for it. Allen's heavy and erratic breathing had since given way to moans of passion and groans of protest, so it was only a matter of time before his pleading started.

Allen felt his cock was harder than ever felt before. It ached like crazy and he needed the internal massage within the slippery friction of his Mistress' silky sex! Experience taught him, however, that once his needs were voiced, she would find a reason to dent him. It would take every last ounce of his willpower, but he would allow no words of pleading, inquiry or otherwise to be formed. He would satisfy his need to plead by making incoherent gasps and moans.

Brandy looked at the clock and was surprised to see she had been at it nearly an hour! She glanced up at his blindfold-hidden eyes and wondered if he had developed a new strategy; he hadn't uttered a recognizable word since securing him to the gyno table. Part of her admired his intelligence and sense of determination but she needed a plausible reason to deny him as part of their scenario. This would reinforce his sense of her control and make his orgasms just that much more intense on Friday. Brandy glanced at the clock again—it was 8:54pm. She decided that if he made it to nine o'clock, phase one would be complete and phase two would begin. Upon successfully completing phase two, she would grant him permission to masturbate to orgasm. What she had planned had been implemented before and Brandy knew he wasn't exactly fond of it. Still, if he made it without failure or protest, her permission would be his. After the excellent dinner, equally excellent cleaning of the kitchen and holding his tongue now despite his rampant excitement, his orgasm would be well earned.

To deny him anyway ran the risk of making her the kind of cruel and heartless Mistress neither wanted her to be.

Meanwhile, Allen wondered if it was

ever

going to end! He could feel his own pulse in his painfully stiff erection! It twitched of its own accord as if to escape the cruelly teasing feather. He trembled as if locked in the garage naked during the winter and none of his muscles would obey his commands to be still. Being blindfolded, Allen had no idea of how much time had passed since the start of his examination ordeal. He knew he absolutely

must not

cave in and start pleading for permission to orgasm. But he felt his willpower crumbling.

Brandy looked at the clock again—it was 9:02pm. She put the feather back in the planter and watched her sex slave as his quivering and trembling settled somewhat. His profoundly erect penis was almost a pale purple and the tip was wet with pre-seminal fluid. She went to his side and removed the blindfold. "Your examination is complete, my pet," she said softly. "I'm pleased to report you're in great health."

"That's hood berry gews—" he paused to clear his throat as Brandy fought down a smile; his horniness made it difficult to form words "—good news, Mistress."

"You handled the exam without complaint," she added as she moved herself closer. "You may suckle my breasts for being so vigilant."

"You are gracious, Mistress," he said as he raised his head to her firm B-cups.

Brandy watched as he suckled and nibbled her, idly stroking his hair as he enjoyed his privilege. Allen made sure to lavish just the right amount of attention on them; Mistress did not like excessive slurping noises or aggressive use of teeth. She silently allowed him two minutes on her left breast before pulling it away and providing the right. Jolts of oral pleasure shook her petite frame.

After his two minutes of right breast time had passed, she pulled away and trailed a gentle hand down his face. "I am well pleased with your behavior tonight," she told him as she released his leg restraints. "There are a few more things you may provide before we call it a night."

"As you wish, Mistress." I am yours to command."

His wrists were released and he stood at her gesture. "Position a stool and a TV tray so you can provide me a seat. Then fetch me a soda."

"Yes, Mistress."

Allen disliked providing her a seat; it was hard on his muscles and made his arms cramp from reduced blood flow. He sensed from past experience, however, that this was leading up to a reward of some kind since she rarely ordered things this strenuous. He positioned the stool and tray as needed and headed upstairs. He returned with a soda in an iced glass, just as his Mistress liked it.

Brandy stood facing the big-screen TV with the stool between it and her as Allen reclined on the floor, his head positioned between her feet. Then he raised his arms straight up. Brandy put his hands on both her ass cheeks and leaned back before putting her feet on the stool. Allen bore her weight on his vertical arms as she got settled to watch TV.

The footstool was needed because of their radial difference in height, and Brandy liked the feeling of his large and strong hands cupping her backside. Meanwhile, Allen enjoyed the view above him—the backs of her thighs, calves and knees, her delightfully small and panty-clad butt, and the unhindered view of her dainty cloth-covered pussy excited him no end. His Mistress did not cross her legs because of stability issues and she made it a point to keep her knees just a bit further apart than normal. Carefully and silently moving his head as needed gained him a view between her legs past her panty-hidden pubic thatch all the way up to her firm tummy, bare breasts and the underside of her chin. It took goodly amounts of strength and internal discipline to hold his arms up like this to bear her weight, but the view was

surely

worth it!

Brandy watched a re-run of

The Bill Engvall Show

while sipping her soda and enjoying the solid grip Allen had on her fanny. She didn't need to look to know he was ogling her pussy and wishing it was cradling his raging cock! Men were visually stimulated and she was more than happy to provide what he liked. She registered and ignored the adjustment of his grip on her behind as the show continued.

It was coming up on 9:30pm and the end of the show. Brandy felt his arms tremble every now and then, but he made no verbal protest. The credits started to roll and she turned off the TV. Then she looked between her legs to make eye contact with her slave. "Did you enjoy the show?" she asked with innocence, not meaning the comedic genius of Bill Engvall.

Now there's a loaded question!

Allen thought, amused. "I did indeed, Mistress."

She opened her legs wider in the guise of leaning forward; Brandy watched with amusement as Allen's eyes flickered back and forth between eye contact and her panty-covered sex. "There's one other show I wish to see before we go to bed."

Allen wondered about that since she had killed the TV. "Of course, Mistress."

"I wish to see you masturbate to climax."

A huge amount of testosterone was still swimming in his blood after the feather job and spending twenty-plus minutes staring at her crotch. "It would be my honor of course, Mistress."

Brandy brought her feet down and took her weight off his arms. "Proceed," she ordered as she picked up the blacksnake whip.

He reached for his still-hard penis. He urged it to even greater stiffness as he admired his Mistress and her fluidly feminine movements as she uncoiled the blacksnake and appeared to examine its length. Her white cotton bikini panties were just as snug and wrinkle free upon her lovely curves as always, hiding yet enhancing her mound of Venus. Brandy shifted her weight to one side, knowing this would cock off her panties at a rakish angle as her bare and unsupported breasts swayed slightly with her movements. Allen watched it all as his hand pumped his shaft with increasing vigor.

Brandy divided her attention between her slave and the symbol of her power over him. Then she gently flicked the whip away from him, making a soft hiss through the air. The whip's popper made a mild snap of protest when it reached the end of its travel and reversed course. She heard Allen breathe harder as he pumped his man-iron with even more vigor.

His Mistress hadn't specified a set length of time he could pleasure himself, so he forced himself to pace his pumping. He didn't want to climax too soon. The urge to orgasm was becoming harder and harder to control as he forced his mind to think about work, the dentist, his Aunt Jill's false teeth or whatever it took to hold off just awhile longer.

Meanwhile, Brandy got an idea. She strode to a position about twenty inches from her slave's feet. With her back to him, she leveled her whip arm and took aim at the basement's central support pillar. Then, taking care not to unintentionally flick him on the backstroke, she pulled back and swung the whip at the pillar with about twenty percent of her strength.

Allen greedily watched her softly fluid feminine movements as he flogged his log even harder. Her panties clung to her immaculate ass as if appreciating her presence within them. He admired how the material tucked close to her butt cleavage and disappeared between her slender and supple legs, her buttocks enhanced by her high heel shoes. The muscles of her bare back rippled smoothly as she pulled back and sent another whipstroke swishing toward the pillar. Vicious leather met innocent paneling with a hearty snap.

"Harder," Allen heard his voice wheeze without his permission.

Brandy heard but pretended to ignore it. She pulled back and let fly with a strong swing; the pillar sounded like a tree breaking in half when the blacksnake hit it. She reset for another stroke while listening to Allen pump his organ to orgasm.

The sight of Mistress administering a whipping to an unseen slave combined in his mind with the sound effects of each stroke. Her petite and sexy body moved with authority and purpose, clad only in those simple yet sexily demure white panties. The blacksnake looked deadly as it sailed cruelly through the air to taste the unfortunate flesh of its unseen victim. His imagination supplied the sounds of that imaginary victim's screams after each lash was landed. Her butt cheeks clenched as Mistress leaned back to prepare another stroke before propelling herself forward as the lash was administered. The whip caused a small chunk of paneling to come off the pillar; some part of his mind said that was a hunk of human flesh flying away as his overheated imagination supplied the sound of a bloodcurdling scream—

And Allen erupted into a ferociously powerful climax.

Brandy turned and watched as Allen pumped his spurting erection almost too fast to see. He quivered, gasped and growled with release as his semen trickled over his pumping hand and into his pubic hair. Brandy saw that his testicles had shrunken to a mere specimen of itself as they delivered their product at long last. She watched and waited as the last vestiges of his orgasm had its way with him. Then, remembering herself and her position of power and control, Brandy set her body into a position of authority in preparation for when he regained his senses.

Allen stilled his pumping hand and relaxed, still quaking with involuntary shivers as his climax departed. He wiped what juice was on his fingers onto his satisfied shaft before he let it rest; it wouldn't do to get a semen stain on his Mistress' carpet. He concentrated on breathing and trying to remember how to think. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and saw Mistress facing him. Her weight was cocked to one side with her free hand posed enticingly on her hip, the uncoiled whip dangling from her right hand. "Thank you, Mistress," he remembered to say.